Thursday, April 22, 2010

makes an ass outta you, not me


I hate that I had to do it. I had to do it, there was no way around it, but that doesn't make me like it any better.

I just posted an announcement via Facebook that season 1 of Remnants isn't going to premiere on May 2, it's going to premiere on June 6th. I hate it. I absolutely hate it. It feels like defeat. It feels like a broken promise. It feels, like my dad would say, "bush league." It feels like failure. I feel like I stood in front of the Alamo, drew a line in the sand, and no-one crossed it.

It couldn't be helped is the most maddening thing about it. My very dear friend Loren, who directed the entire season* and who has been working hard on editing the episodes (as well as sound editing, color correcting and all the other truly wonderful things that belong in the world of Post), found out maybe two weeks ago that he has diverticulitis. As if that wasn't enough, a short time later, he discovered (to his joy) that he also had pleurisy. The combination of the two have been so painful that he hasn't been near his computer and has actually turned off his phone so that he doesn't also have to deal with the outside world.

I didn't know this for the first week of his suffering. When he didn't return my texts, e-mails, Facebook messages and phone calls, I assumed one of six things was happening:

  1. He finally ran away to become a pirate. It was only a matter of time, really.
  2. He was abducted by aliens. This was most surprising because it was going to force me to completely reevaluate my opinion of the universe.
  3. He was fed up with me and didn't want to talk to me.
  4. He was avoiding me.
  5. I was calling him at all the wrong times: During Burn Notice, during Happy Married Life Time, or during a quest on WOW. He couldn't or wouldn't interrupt those, promised himself to call me back, and then would promptly forget.
  6. He had been sucked into a wormhole and/or a blackhole and so all of my messages were actually going into the void, unable to be heard or returned by anyone.

When he finally summoned the ability to get in touch with me, I (of course) tore him a new one. Then he told me what was going on and (without meaning to or trying to) exposed me as the ass I am.

Even if he can kick this thing in the next week, there's no way we're going to be ready for the premiere of May 2. Technically, we could have the first episode ready. But that's it. No music has been scored for the rest of the season. I'm not even sure how many episodes have been edited, since they're all up in Nashville right now.

So . . . yeah. Grr. Ugh. Oh well. All that being said, what I've seen, looks really good. Too good, really. So good I'm questioning whether or not I actually had any part in it. I think you'll do the same when you finally get to see it. "This is really good," you'll say, "how did T Scott Fogg have a hand in this?"

So, June 6th! 6/6/10. Maybe it'll be better. 6 has always been my lucky number.

*Except for one awesome sequence involving a book, a sword, a lot of chocolate, and a Spartan helmet. That one was all me. And Evan, who brandished his mad improv skills.

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